


His Basketball Is About Trust

by PumpkinPantaloons



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, M/M, Midorima is such a tsundere, One-Sided Relationship, Seirin is awesome, Takao has a heart of gold, Today's lucky item, basketball nerds, know-it-all bros, kuroko is a boss, most of the time relationships are implied, or pre-relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinPantaloons/pseuds/PumpkinPantaloons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of drabbles for Kuroko no Basket, because I love those basketball nerds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Today Cancers are Ranked Fifth

**Author's Note:**

> All of these, at least tangentially, involve Kuroko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t really sneaking out, Shintarō told himself, even if Takao was grinning like a mischievous idiot. It was a necessary trip, thanks to that clumsy oaf, Kagami. And certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he had forgotten to pick up his lucky item for the day after teaching Bakagami a lesson on the street court.
> 
> Takes place during the Seirin summer camp with Shutoku, right after Midorima plays a mini-game with Kagami.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied future Midorima/Takao and Kuroko getting Kagami to do his bidding.
> 
> Re-reading the Teikou arch gave me a new appreciation for Midorima and his 'dislike' of Kuroko. Bless those basketball nerds.

Shintarō had, of course, realized his mistake the second he heard a disastrous crash as Kagami (probably) accidentally kicked his lucky item into the pole of the hoop, almost immediately after Shintarō had walked off the street court.

Even Takao, who had started to follow him away from the court, had had the common courtesy to tense up, uttering a quiet curse.

“Kagami-kun,” Kuroko said in his mildly reproachful monotone, “You can be very clumsy sometimes. You have broken Midorima-kun’s lucky item.”

“He’s the idiot that left it on the court!” the redhead blustered back, “who caries around a porcelain cat anyway?”

Takao, the bastard, started laughing. Softly at first, then covering his mouth, and then loudly, doubled over. The traitorous bastard. Shintarō glowered at him, which did not phase the loon at all, so he stalked back towards the court to salvage what he could of his lucky item.

He refused to look at any of them, fuming as he bent down to pick up the pieces of the white cat. That idiot redhead started laughing at him too. Kuroko was the only one that had the decency to understand the seriousness of the situation. Maybe. It was hard to tell, because he was just staring down impassively at the pieces.

“Why are you even bothering?” Kagami squeezed out between snickers, “it’s nine o’clock at night, what could you possibly need it for now? The practice match is over.”

Shintarō glared at him. Of course the dimwit wouldn’t understand.

“Midorima-kun will have trouble sleeping without his lucky item. He will have nightmares.” Kuroko’s words were even, devoid of reproach, or mocking, but it still made Shintarō blush, because it was painfully true. Not exactly a guarantee, but true. Cancers were, of course, ranked fifth for the day.

Kagami kept snickering, unfazed, “Oh come on, that doesn’t really work.”

Shintarō still didn’t quite understand why Kuroko had chosen such an uncouth moron for his new light, but then Aomine had never had much sense either.

However, unexpectedly, as Shintarō straightened to try and save a tiny shred of his dignity, pushing his glasses up his nose, Takao had immediately stopped laughing. He didn’t turn towards him, but Shintarō’s gaze slid so that he could catch his partner… handler, out of his periphery – but the guy was standing in a shadowy patch between streetlamps, and he couldn’t make out his expression in the shadows.

“Kagami-kun should stop being rude to Midorima-kun.” Kuroko admonished, in the only blunt, raw way the shadow knew how to help.

The redhead sobered immediately. “Yeah, sorry I broke your cat.” He had the decency to sound sincere, but it was already too late.

Shintarō grumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose again as he turned away. “What do I care, you blithering idiot?” He started to walk away as the redhead sputtered. Shintarō carefully relaxed his hands at his sides, squaring his shoulders.

“Hey Shin-chan!” Takao burst out suddenly, loping over to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders and unexpectedly turning him back towards the court, “Let’s go grab you another one! There’s got to be a convenience store around here somewhere.”

“That’s not-”

“Yeah,” Kagami talked over him, “There’s one about four blocks from here. I’ve run past it about a million times this week.” He jerked his thumb in the indicated direction.

“I said it’s not-”

Takao was already steering him in the indicated direction, “Come on, Shin-chan! We haven’t been away from the training camp since we got here!” He was practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

Shintarō resisted moving forward, planting his feet, “That’s because we’re not supposed to.” He snapped back.

“Kagami-kun should also go, because he is the one that broke Midorima-kun’s lucky item.” Kuroko supplied blandly as if Shintarō hadn’t just voiced his displeasure at the idea.

Suddenly Shintarō had a strong urge to choke his former teammate.  “Why aren’t you idiots listening? I am not-”

“Come onnnnnnn, Shin-chan,” Takao intoned in a sing-song, “We’ll only be gone for a few minutes, and it’s for a good cause. And Kagami will buy us ice cream!”

“W-wait! What?” Kagami sputtered, “I did not say-”

Shintarō knew exactly what Takao was doing, and his heart unexpectedly fluttered at the thought; he wouldn’t seem desperate if he was just doing it to spite Kagami. He didn’t need the charity from his partner… teammate, nor did he need it from Kuroko, the tactless runt who’d exposed the secret in the first place.

Well, he’d never specifically told Kuroko not to tell anyone, the observant bastard had figured it out on his own during their Teiko days, after Murasakibara had done something frighteningly similar at the end of practice one day. However, instead of a shouting match, Kuroko had maneuvered them into a trip to the convenience store where the giant oaf had replaced his lucky item among his purchase of a mountain of snacks.

Shintarō pushed his glasses up his nose, “Very well. It’s only a few blocks away, and the idiot deserves to repay me for the trouble,” he answered airily.

“Since Kagami-kun is buying,” Kuroko interjected, “I would like an ice cream too.”

Shintarō tried to hide his smirk while Kagami exclaimed indignantly, but didn’t say no. Takao caught the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth, and threw him an even wider grin than his usual goofy smile. He also noticed that, even though he had voluntarily started moving, Takao still didn’t remove his arm draped over his shoulders, and the shooting-guard was content to pretend he didn’t care. He felt his face warm.

“Kagami-kun should stop complaining because Midorima-kun helped him.”

The blandly scolding words were so familiar, like a light, comfortable weight. It was an old feeling, one he thought was forever gone after the second year at Teiko. It made him miss Akashi, the old Akashi, the one who acknowledged his team, the one that had found an unconventional ghost to change the flow of their game.

Determined and unchanging is what the other-Akashi had called Kuroko’s basketball, and as Shintarō unintentionally let slip a small, genuine smile, which he was appalled that Takao’s keen eyes had also caught, he knew the shadow had never moved from that spot on their team, even after they’d all moved away from him.

Even though he was on Seirin now, Kuroko’s basketball overflowed in subtle ways.

Shintarō was walking with Takao hanging off of him, grinning, Kagami and Kuroko trailing behind, amicably arguing, and while Shintarō would never admit it out loud, he wasn’t an idiot, he knew Kuroko was already exceeding all of Akashi’s expectations, because Shintarō no longer wanted to beat Akashi to finally prove he was better, he wanted to beat some sense _into_ Akashi.

And it didn’t seem so impossible with Takao draped over him like an idiot.  



	2. And They Observe Him In Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroko has always been observing Seirin, but they've been watching him too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No parings, just Seirin being awesome

_Have fighting spirit, but keep it hidden._

Tetsuya doesn’t remember if that was the exact phrasing of the advice Akashi-kun had given him on being a shadow in his first game at Teikou, but after constantly repeating it to himself for weeks after, it had morphed into the mere understanding of what he had to do to be of use to the team.

Maybe his body had always been whispering that mantra, and that’s why he’d already been next to nothing in people’s presence all his life, and Akashi-kun had just given him words to focus it.

He caught himself repeating those words in his head sometimes, even now, over a year later. Sometimes before a game, sometimes when he feels anxious, sometimes when he feels a smile about to give him away, and sometimes when all he wants to do is observe.

He likes to watch his new team. He likes watching Seirin. They work hard, and they laugh. They have fighting spirit, and they let it out loud. He stands behind them, watches them shine, and he loves it. They are _his_ team.

They think he’s weird and distant, but he knows they’ve been observing him right back, out of the corner of their eye, when his back is turned, when they think he’s not looking. Sometimes when he is. Because he is _their_ phantom.

Captain has stopped trying to decipher his expressions; he listens to his words and observes the way he plays. He praises him as he passes him on the court, sometimes for things Tetsuya has already done a hundred times. He has not deciphered the pattern yet.

Izuki watches him, even when he’s not directly looking at him, trying to pick apart what makes him a shadow. It’s not malicious or envious, Tetsuya knows this. It’s not idle curiosity. He understands this pattern – the point guard thinks he needs to be able to _see_ what he is supporting, what he is protecting, because his eagle eye is what makes him a good point guard. When they win a game and he is near him, Izuki always throws an arm across his shoulders, grinning at him.

Coach takes the simple approach, the approach she takes with all of her players; watches their specs, strengthens them against harm, and trusts the rest to Hyuuga and Kiyoshi. Her aces do not get special treatment, and that is the thing that is perfect about her.

Kiyoshi is new to Tetsuya and he is still working him out. He seems to have the empathetic equivalent of the eagle eye. Walking in after the game with Aomine, he seemed to detangle the misunderstanding between him and Kagami immediately. Although Tetsuya figured he had an unfair advantage, as he most certainly had been fed information by the second years before the two had ever met. But Tetsuya intends to observe him just as carefully, to look out for him too.

Kagami doesn’t try to figure him out, he knows he’s no good at that, just meets him halfway, accepts his passes, and stays easily open for deciphering. He tries his hardest, and grumbles even as he is generous and kind.

“Kuroko! What the hell are you doing? I’m starving! Let’s go!” Kagami-kun suddenly bellows at him from across the room.

_Have fighting spirit, but keep it hidden._

Tetsuya stuffs down the smile. “Kagami-kun needs to be more patient.” Tetsuya points out, even as he trots across the locker room to the door where his Light is waiting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Kagami grumbles at him and Izuki briefly looks up from writing something in his notebook full of terrible jokes to watch him pass, a small smile on his face, and then he goes back to work.


	3. Keep It Hidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamiya is the worst type of person, so Kuroko is especially motivated to beat Kirisaki Daichi High.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny hints of future KagaKuro  
> The dialogue that is cannon-related I used from a sub of the anime.

Hanamiya is the worst type of person.

Kuroko clenches his hands together, sitting very still on the bench in the locker room. He vaguely knows things are happening around him, that everyone is tending to Kiyoshi – he will leave that to them, because he doesn’t know what to do, and is just so _angry_ he can’t think.

_Have fighting spirit, but keep it hidden._

The loud clang when Kagami kicks the bench into the lockers is almost cathartic. He wants to scream. He wants to punch Hanamiya for hurting his senpai, and because his basketball is watching other people suffer.

Kagami thumps down next to him so hard the bench vibrates. He needs to say something normal to keep himself from exploding, from doing something to make things worse. “You shouldn’t break things.”

“I know! How can you be so ca-“ Kagami stops to just stare at him, but if he says anything else, Tetsuya can’t hear it over the mantra in his head to calm himself down. It’s not working, because Kagami-kun can tell that he’s pissed.

_Have fighting spirit, but keep it hidden. Keep.It.Hidden._

He is going to make sure Seirin wins this match. He knows it will get them to the Winter Cup, but right now it’s just about beating Hanamiya. He balls up all of his anger, shapes it into theories and strategies. He’s going to need Hyuuga’s 3-pointers, and he’s not sure how to make that work, because Hyuuga cannot use his anger like Tetsuya can. He’ll figure out a way around it if he needs to. He won’t let Seirin lose, he won’t let Hyuuga lose. He won’t let Kiyoshi lose this.

He is going to _humiliate_ Hanamiya.

Kagami aborts another attempt to speak to him. His Light waits with him- drumming his fingers distractingly on the edge of the bench, but with a patience he knows he doesn’t really feel because light is fueled by fire, burning bright enough for everyone to see. The Shadow cannot. But he knows he can pass his anger to Kagami, that he understands and will shine for them both.

“Hey, come on, it’s time. Let’s go beat those bastards.” Kagami finally gets through to him, holding out a fist.

_Have fighting spirit, but keep it hidden. Have fighting spirit, but keep it hidden. Have fighting spirit, but keep it hidden._

 Tetsuya stands, completing the fist bump. “Yes.” He adjusts his wristbands as they walk out onto the court together. He is already planning their opening move, and knows Kagami will like it.

 ~~

Once the match is over, he’s shaking. He hadn’t kept himself under control as well as he would have liked; pausing to do his Vanishing Drive until he could trick two of Kirisaki Daichi High’s players at once was a little risky. And he shouldn’t have wasted time yelling at Hanamiya before his cross-court pass to Kagami, but the jerk had tried to _hit him_! Luckily he’d telegraphed his intentions and had given Tetsuya an opening to dodge it.

But he’s satisfied now because he’d accomplished what he needed to. They are headed to the Winter Cup. He will fight the Generation of Miracles with Seirin. With his friends.

He can’t sit still, and his mantra can’t stop the shaking, and with the excitement he doesn’t know if he can keep his expression neutral, so when no one is paying attention, he slips outside. He didn’t really intend to, but on autopilot he’s already heading towards the nearby outdoor court. The air is crisp and cool and as goose bumps rise along his arms he somewhat regrets forgetting his jacket in the locker room. He’ll run back and get it… right after he shoots a few hoops. Just a few.

The texture of the ball, the rhythmic thump as he dribbles, does not help. It makes the shaking worse. Because they are going to the Winter Cup. They are going to become number one in Japan. This time he will beat Aomine. He will show him something amazing.

Because Kagami-kun is amazing. He’s grumpy and loud and plays with a bright, excited energy that Tetsuya desperately missed. He won’t let Kagami fall like he failed to help Aomine. He knows now what happens when you shine bright.

Kise reminded him, too.

But Kagami shares with him; his water bottle, his support when Tetsuya wants to fall dead from Coach’s training hell, he shares his light with him. He shares his warmth. Tetsuya is glad he met Kagami-kun. He makes even the painful time at Teikou seem worth it, because it made him the shadow that can support his light.

The prickly, embarrassed warmth that suddenly rises to the surface of Tetsuya’s skin makes his jacket completely unnecessary.

“Everyone's leaving, you idiot.”

Tetsuya’s heart jumps and he stops in his tracks, whipping his head in the direction of the voice. Kagami is sitting on the steps, chin in his hand, looking only mildly committed to the declaration.

How long has he been there? Could he read his thoughts on his face? Tetsuya hadn’t been paying enough attention to keep his expression neutral. At least he didn’t think so. Hopefully he still had been by reflex. He’s not embarrassed, but those were private thoughts, they weren’t for sharing. “Don’t scare me like that. You'll make me angry.”

Kagami growls, clearly irate, and now, even if he had noticed Tetsuya’s thoughts, he’s not going to remember he had. "That's how I feel all the time!" He trots down the narrow steps to join him on the court. “Jeez. What are you dribbling for now?” He puts up a hand and by reflex Tetsuya passes the ball to him.

"Sorry. I just couldn't sit still."

He watches a long finger effortlessly support the spinning ball. “Trembling with excitement, huh?”

“I don’t know,” Tetsuya looks down at his own shaking fingers and decides to be honest, to turn off the mantra in his head. He doesn’t need to be a phantom right now. Not right now with Kagami-kun. “It's just, since we won and advanced to the Winter Cup, I'm so excited, I can’t stop shaking.”

Kagami’s mouth falls open, and then forms into a slow, sly smile that Tetsuya feels in his heart. “That’s called trembling with excitement.” And then the asshole hits him in the head with the basketball. Which seems especially cruel after he’d managed to dodge Hanamiya.

He rubs his head, and then trots after the ball, walling off his expression before he takes the ball back towards Kagami. He tosses it to him, and while the redhead’s hands are occupied, jabs him in the ribs. He yelps, and Tetsuya lets a small smile surface. Before Kagami can retaliate though, he trots over to the top of the key and gets into a defensive position. It’s so easy to distract Kagami-kun. They play.

Tetsuya knows Hyuuga has figured out the correct sequence to find him (send Kagami after him, wait several minutes, and then go to the nearest basketball court) when ten minutes later he appears, yelling at Kagami. The rest of the team is behind him on the steps, smiling. Tetsuya wonders if he should be more worried that his teammates are learning to read him. Is it bad that he likes that they remember him? That, while he can slip away unnoticed, they don’t forget him?

He’s been left behind before.

But his parents apologize every time. So it’s actually ok.

Maybe he is becoming a worse shadow, if Seirin is noticing his absence. He should be more careful.


	4. Enthusiastic Admiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kise/Kasamatsu  
> Kise has always respected Kurokocchi’s skills. Enthusiastically. Very very enthusiastically. Kasamatsu wonders if he should be worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because through the entire series Kise acts like Kuroko is made of magic, and it is adorable.

Yukio Kasamatsu idly wonders if he should be jealous of Kise’s near-obsession with Kuroko. He hadn’t mentioned the phantom sixth man even once before the practice game with him, but afterwards, omg afterwards he wouldn’t shut up about him.

He goes to see every one of Seirin’s matches, even before he could convince Yukio to join him. And while the phantom sixth man’s misdirection is impressive, he wasn’t entirely convinced Kise’s enthusiasm was warranted, because other than that, he’s a very weak player.

And yet Kise uses that weird pet name for him, and seems to adore him and his abnormal talent, calling him a trump card. And admittedly Yukio doesn’t know much of the history of Kuroko’s participation in the Teikou first string, but he thinks Kise’s claim that Kuroko practically won them their second tournament is an exaggeration.

Kise seems to have an unwavering faith in the shadow, which Yukio doesn’t understand at first, because he was only watching his performance on the court.

But as Kaijo’s captain, he really should have noticed the phantom sixth man’s true skill sooner, because he saw the effect in Kise before he even realized there was a catalyst. The way Kise became aware of his teammates and didn’t always have that painfully fake smile around them. When he finally said the words Yukio thought he’d never hear from one of the self-absorbed prodigies from the Generation of Miracles, _I want to win_ with _the team_.

And he wasn’t the only one of them that had started relying more on their teammates. And the change didn’t seem to extend to just the members of the Generation of Miracles. Yukio began to understand what they saw in Kuroko.

But Kise’s praise still seems to border on obsession. Maybe it’s just nostalgia, for a time when they had all been closer, trusted in each other’s abilities, even if they hadn’t really gotten along that well and were all pretty crazy.

As if his thoughts summoned him, the blond practically bounces towards him from around a corner of the first year’s building, a genuine, bright smile on his face. Kise’s brown jacket is flapping in the breeze. “Kasamatsu-senpai!” he chirps before giving him a very discreet peck on the cheek, which still makes Yukio flush, and throws an arm around him. “Let’s go have dinner together! I’ve already rounded up the rest of the team! You have to say yes!”

Yukio growls at him, shoving him away. “Get off me!”

The action earns him a pout, which quickly dissolves into another smile. “Let’s go!”

“You pest! Stop deciding things for me!” Yukio snaps, taking a swipe at the energetic, very beautiful first year.

Kise pouts, but the glint in his gold eyes tells Yukio that he knows he already has him. However, he still cheerfully plays his part, whining, “Sennnnnnppppaaaiii!”

“Fine!” Yukio explodes, “But only because I’m hungry, not because you’re whining at me!” He jabs a finger at Kise’s chest, letting the touch linger longer than the necessary moment.

“Of course Senpai!” Kise gives him a sunny, gorgeous smile that makes Yukio’s face go red, and his stomach flutter, and he has to fight down the urge to pull the tall blonde to him and kiss him.

Naw, he doesn’t need to be jealous of the phantom sixth man. He’s got one very important thing to thank Kuroko for, but there is a huge difference between admiration and love. And Kise really enjoys showing Yukio the difference.


	5. We’ll Play Again And Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No pairings  
> Midorima welcomes Akashi back… in his own way  
> Takes place post-series

There was the distinct click of a Shogi piece on the wooden board. Midorima considered the move carefully. Akashi smiled slyly at him from across the board, drawing his attention from the curve of his lips to his eyes, his monochromatic red eyes.

Akashi’s smile softened, clearly aware of Midorima’s train of thought. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question, it was an apology, and Midorima knew it. An apology for the behavior of his other self. The one that had called him pathetic.

Midorima pushed his glasses up his nose with taped fingers. The first time they’d met after the Winter Cup, it had been the day they’d taken the picture with the rest of their team from Teikou. The atmosphere hadn’t exactly been relaxed, but neither was it the almost hostile tension it had been when Akashi had gathered them all at the start of the tournament.

As Momoi had organized them for the picture, Akashi had congratulated them all on their performances, their improvements. Kise, the buffoon, had squealed and hugged him, and he’d just laughed quietly and pushed the clingy copycat off of him. No one had said ‘welcome back’, but that’s what they’d all meant.

It took Takao nagging him for a week after that though, to get him to invite his ex-captain for a game of Shogi. He’d actually been a bit surprised when Akashi accepted.

Midorima took his turn, “You found a good addition to the team, in Kuroko.”

Akashi’s smile spread a little, answering Midorima’s move with one of his own. “Better than expected. But you all surprised me.”

Midorima’s hand froze in the process of pushing on the bridge of his glasses. He continued the motion a moment later. “I _will_ beat you next time.”

Akashi let out an amicably non-committal noise, “We’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the real Akashi is back, I hope he and Midorima can go back to being Know-It-All bros


	6. His Basketball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aomine almost ran Satsuki over when he saw he'd gotten a text from Tetsu. He knew Tetsu wouldn't want to gloat about winning the match, so lord only knows why he'd want to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during the time Aomine is teaching Kuroko to shoot.

_I don’t think I even remember_ how _to receive your passes anymore_

Aomine will always regret those words. From the moment they left his mouth, till probably the day he dies.

Who tells their best friend, the guy (he knows now) he’d been in love with, that they no longer trusted them, especially when they’d done nothing but try and help them? Because that’s what that meant where Tetsu was concerned.

_What you need isn’t logic. It’s trust._

He’d been really angry and confused, and had just been made to feel like all he was, was his talent for winning. He was too good for them to even care if he was at practice or not. Just as long as he made them win. Maybe if Tetsu had gotten to him a little sooner, before the coach had… no it would have turned out the same.

But maybe he could have at least avoided saying those particular words.

Shit, the way Tetsu had looked. Even if he hadn’t been his best friend, used to reading his micro-expressions, he would have been able to see the hurt. And that was bad. When you could tell Tetsu was upset, you know you’d fucked up.

He’d fucked up a lot that final year at Teikou, and so messed up in his own head that he kept blaming Tetsu for the silence between them after that. Aomine remembered thinking Tetsu would stop being upset eventually, and he would just wait for that, because what was there to apologize for? Tetsu _had_ stopped passing to him, so it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t remember how to catch those amazing passes.

Until Kise had told him Tetsu had actually been absent from school for over a week, Aomine had just assumed his shadow had upped his disappearing act specifically to avoid him. And somehow Tetsu completely giving up on school, on basketball (like him), on all of them, felt even worse than his crushing boredom. Tetsu should have talked to Satsuki at the very least, but even at graduation, when he finally did reappear, he always managed to be too far away to speak to. Not that Aomine would have known what to say.

It wasn’t until he realized they wouldn’t even be going to the same high school that he understood just how damaging those words had been.

That summer had been horrible. Without even classes to sleep through, without Tetsu’s quiet presence alongside him, or even slightly behind him, with Satsuki trying extra annoyingly hard to get him to do a bunch of inane bullshit, he’d been so bored that it was exhausting. However, at the same time he was so restless he couldn’t sleep or focus on anything to distract himself. He doesn’t understand how Satsuki can still talk to him after those few weeks.

To be honest, he couldn’t even understand why Tetsu was talking to him now. Their first reunion hadn’t exactly been a shining moment for either of them. They’d both been ugly. Tetsu, who was really smart (about basketball), had tried to ignore the fact that he’d ever played with Aomine and did the exact same stuff he always had out of stubbornness.

And for Aomine’s part, all the wrong words came out of his mouth. _Tetsu, you shouldn’t have left. Tetsu, you shouldn’t have aligned yourself with that redheaded waste of space because he is just dragging you down. Tetsu, please just give up so we don’t have to have this completely one-sided fight anymore, I don’t want to be doing this to you. Tetsu, I’m sorry._ Instead only the frustration had made it out of his mouth.

And yet now Tetsu was trying to get him to teach him how to shoot, and had the gall to look happy. Well, as happy as Tetsu revealed in his blank expression.

No, that wasn’t true. Tetsu was smiling. Actually smiling. An obvious upwards tip of the corners of his mouth.

And Aomine had called his basketball useless.

“Hey Tetsu.” Tetsu tilts his head up slightly to look at him, frozen in his weird new stance, mouth in a neutral line of concentration. “Nevermind, just shoot.” Aomine raises his hand to block the shot, and Tetsu releases the ball in the bizarre arch that’s a little like Midorima’s form, out of the range of Aomine’s outstretched hand. He hears the swish of the net behind him.

Tetsu doesn’t move to retrieve the ball, just stares at him expectantly. Trying not to blush, Aomine turns to grab the ball instead. He tosses it to Tetsu, and Tetsu tosses it right back. “What did you want to say, Aomine-kun?”

“I said forget it.”

“No. I will not wait this time.”

Aomine stares at him for several seconds, and Tetsu just stares back, light blue eyes that same sort of determined that’s so familiar because he’s seen that look on the court. So desperately determined to…

…get it right this time.

Aomine laughs. It’s derisive, directed at himself. It’s so like Tetsu to think he is the one that has to figure out a way to make it work, when he is the one that really needs to apologize. But he can’t get the words to dislodge from his throat. “Tch. Losing sucks.” He finally says noncommittally, bouncing the ball to Tetsu. The shadow doesn’t shoot it, just throws it back with enough force to make Aomine’s palms sting. “Ok, ok. Why am I here, Tetsu?”

“Because you answered my text, and are teaching me to shoot because I asked you to.” His tone is carefully placid.

A gust of wind ruffles his hair and Aomine resists the urge to flick him on the forehead and call him a dumbass for stating the obvious and not answering the question Aomine is actually asking. But it’s Tetsu, so maybe he doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say. “No, I mean, why me after-” _I treated you like shit. Say it Daiki, say it. How can you even stand speaking to me, Tetsu? After everything I’ve done_ “…you’ve got a bunch of other people you could force to watch your crappy shooting.” _Daiki, you idiot._

There is a very small smile on Tetsu’s face. “I said already, because you are the best shooter that I know.” His eyes flick to the ball in Aomine’s hands, and then down at the pavement. “And I wanted to see how you were doing.” His gaze tracks back up to Aomine’s face, looking him straight in the eyes as if it’s a challenge.

Aomine scratches the back of his head. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

The smile widens. On anyone else it could still barely classify as a smile, but on Tetsu it’s brilliant. “Yes you are, Aomine-kun.”


End file.
